


Peace of Mind

by nagi_schwarz



Series: Prompt Fills 2018 [50]
Category: Stargate Atlantis, Stargate SG-1
Genre: Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-07
Updated: 2018-12-07
Packaged: 2019-09-13 07:41:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16888410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nagi_schwarz/pseuds/nagi_schwarz
Summary: Written for the call me comment_fic prompt:"Stargate Atlantis, John Sheppard/Evan Lorne,Call me, call meLet me know you are thereCall me, call meI wanna know you still care(The Seatbelts)"





	Peace of Mind

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SherlockianSyndromes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SherlockianSyndromes/gifts).



After John lost Mitch and Dex, he was, well, lost.

The person who picked up the pieces was Evan, another captain, a zoomie who, unlike most other zoomies, was quiet and kept to himself, didn’t go out and flirt, didn’t play cards and talk smack. The crew who worked on his plane liked him. He was sociable enough, would watch movies and play video games, but once he was done being the sort of sociable, likeable officer John had never really been good at being, he’d retreat to his own quarters to draw, since he was an artist in his spare time.

Or the KP Marines would let him into the kitchen, because he was an amazing baker, and since he was awesome at logistics, he could get his hands on all kinds of fancy ingredients to bake quality pastries. Birthdays on base were way better with Evan around.

That was how it started.

There was an unspoken rule: a guy had twenty-four hours after a loss to do his thing. Bawl. Drink. Rage. Share sentimental stories about the guys he lost. But after that, it was chin up. Back to business. They were airmen, and this was war.

After Mitch and Dex, John had tried to get back up after his twenty-four hours, but it didn’t work. The others avoided him, wouldn’t look at him, gave him a wide berth, like he’d lost his mind and was going to be sectioned and snatched up and sent back Stateside, cut loose because he couldn’t cut it.

And then Evan caught him and said, “Hey, I need a hand.”

So John followed, uncaring, and Evan led him into the kitchen, where he was making puff pastry apple cinnamon turnovers. He had done all the prep work, just needed John’s help rotating the trays in the oven. He had a system for baking two trays at once, so he could bake continuously, rotating the tray from the lower rack to the upper rack partway through.

It didn’t take a lot of thinking, and the kitchen was all theirs on the condition that they did their own cleanup, and John was grateful to have an uncomplicated purpose without people staring at him, so he pulled on a pair of oven mitts and helped Evan shuffle baking trays, helped him slide the cooked turnovers off the trays and onto wire cooling racks with a spatula.

And then it was done and they had six dozen turnovers to share with the other pilots and crew, and John didn’t know what to do with himself, besides roll up his sleeves and help Evan clean up.

Only Evan said, “Here, I need a taste test.” He held out a turnover.

John didn’t even think, leaned in for a bite. Buttery, flaky pastry crumbled in his mouth, and sticky sweetness burst across his tongue. Evan cursed - hot apple filling was spilling out of the pastry and down his wrist.

John still wasn’t thinking when he leaned in again, sucked the sticky sweetness off of the soft, vulnerable skin on the inside of Evan’s wrist. 

Evan’s breath hitched. “Shep.”

John lifted his head, saw Evan was blushing, his gaze dark with arousal. He was thinking when he leaned in and kissed Evan on the mouth.

Evan tasted like coffee and apples and cinnamon, and his hand on John’s shoulder was warm, reassuring.

Then he pulled back. “Hey, not here. We can’t.”

John nodded, breathing hard. “Yeah. Let - let’s do the dishes, and we’ll let the others know there’s food to be had, and then -”

And then they could fall into bed together, hands roaming, tongues twining, and John could forget everything but Evan.

They had an easy relationship. Evan was undemanding of John’s time; more often than not he was interested in John’s intellectual companionship, his opinions on logistical decisions, tactical options, things they’d learned in officer training. But when John needed to be put back together after the horrors of combat, Evan was there, with soft kisses and gentle hands and steady warmth.

By the time they were separated - because Evan was being transferred back Stateside, not because they were caught - John had reached a decent equilibrium, and he and Evan agreed to stay friends.

Evan wrote pretty often, sent postcards or letters that he illustrated himself. He was being stationed at Peterson in Colorado, some kind of boring desk job doing logistics, but it’d give him a calm enough posting where he could start working toward Major.

John was less good at writing letters, but he was all right about writing emails, and he started on the track to Major as well, so they kept up with each other, encouraging each other, bouncing ideas off of each other.

Only Evan’s letters became more and more infrequent, and so did John’s, and then everything really went to hell when Holland was shot down, and - Antarctica. That was where they sent John. McMurdo. A literal freeze-out till he finished his time in grade, didn’t get promoted, and got separated from service.

Snail-mail wasn’t a useful option there, so John had to satisfy himself with emails, only Evan was pretty bad at emails, so John felt cold. And alone.

And then the Stargate Program happened, and now John, as part of his new super secret human light switch status, was afforded a single video call a week to someone of his choosing, on a secure line so they couldn’t track him.

He chose Evan, because he didn’t have anyone else.

He emailed Evan, let Evan know his scheduled call time, but Evan didn’t respond.

When John called, all he got was some kind of video mail system, so he left a message, and then he went back to his bunk and tried to read some more.

For three weeks, all he got was the video mail.

And he felt even more alone. Maybe Rodney and Elizabeth and Jackson were right. The best thing for him was in another galaxy, far from Earth, on a possible one way trip, because what did he have to lose? Only when he flipped a coin, the answer he got made his stomach turn.

So John decided to try one more time, give Evan a call.

At his appointed time, which was about 7PM on a Tuesday in Colorado, John fired up the specially designated call computer, and waited while the line rang.

To his surprise, the call was answered, and there was Evan, sitting in front of his laptop in what looked like a cement bunker of an office, windowless with bare metal filing cabinets and fluorescent lighting.

“John,” Evan said, smiling. “Sorry I missed all your other calls. I’ve been - away from my computer. How are you doing?”

“I’m - here,” John managed. He tried for a smile.

Judging by Evan’s concerned frown, he failed.

“Are you staying warm? You need me to send you some warm gear? Kinda the total opposite of A-stan down there, isn’t it.” Evan leaned in. He was wearing olive BDUs with his name on one pocket, looked neat and put together and everything John wasn’t.

“I’m fine,” John said. “Just - I wanted to talk to someone who wasn’t -” He cut himself off before he said  _ a cranky scientist, _ because his posting was classified.

But the door behind him burst open, and Rodney said, “Sheppard, I need you to turn something on for me.”

John twisted around, annoyed. “Hey, it’s my weekly phone call. Also, it’s the middle of the night. You should be in bed.”

“Who are you, my mother?” Rodney snapped. “Come here. I need you right now -”

And then a woman said, faintly muffled from Evan’s end of the call, “Major Lorne, do you have a moment?”

Evan looked away from his camera. “Colonel Carter, is it urgent? I’m kind of in the middle of -”

Rodney raised his eyebrows, and he was across the room, elbowing John out of the way and leaning in.

“Sam, is that you?”

A woman with a light-bird’s silver oak leaves on her shoulders leaned over Evan and peered at his webcam. “Rodney? What are you doing, talking to Major Lorne?”

John elbowed Rodney out of the way. “Actually, Lorne was talking to me. It’s my one phone call a week.”

“Major Sheppard, I’ve heard so much about you. So glad to have you on the list for the Atlantis Expedition candidates.” Carter smiled hopefully.

Evan’s eyes went wide. “John? You - you’re in the Stargate Program?”

John stared at him. “You mean  _ you -?” _

“Yeah, when I transferred Stateside,” Evan said.

“You said you were at Peterson.”

“Officially I am,” Evan said. “But that’s why I couldn’t answer your calls before. I’m usually offworld.”

“So...you’ve been through one of those Stargate things?”

“Twice a day, five days a week.” Evan smiled.

“Wow.” John took a deep breath. “That’s - wow. So we can  _ really _ talk.”

Evan nodded. “Yeah. We can.” Then he cleared his throat, addressed Carter. “Ma’am?”

“It’s not urgent,” Carter said. “I’ll be back later, Major.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”   


“Don’t go anywhere, Sam. I’ll call you on a separate line,” Rodney said, and left the room.

Once the door was closed behind him and Evan had closed his office door as well, they sat, just looking at each other.

Finally John said, “I thought you weren’t there anymore.”  _ Thought you didn’t care. _

“I’m always here,” Evan said gently. “You’re not alone, though. Half the time my mother thinks I’m dead. The planet I’m stationed on isn’t on the same circadian cycle as Earth, so my work days are weird.”

John laughed, a little hysterically. “You’re stationed at another planet. That’s so bizarre.”

“Welcome to Stargate Command.” Evan smiled. “Really, how have you been?”

“I miss your baking so, so much,” John said, but he knew Evan heard the real message,  _ I miss you. _

“I miss your help in the kitchen,” Evan said. “When you come back here to prep for Atlantis, I’ll show you some of my new recipes.”

“I’d like that,” John said. “So - alien planets. Tell me more?”

So Evan told him, and John told him about being a human light switch, and if Evan could go through a Stargate, John could do it too.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from the song used for the prompt.


End file.
